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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279400">Feet on the Ground, Head in the Clouds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious'>Calacious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>January in February [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Memories, Mentioned Marilla Cuthbert, Nostalgia, Prompt Fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:29:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for Gilbert to return from delivering a baby, Anne gets lost in fond memories of Marilla.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>January in February [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ficuary</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Feet on the Ground, Head in the Clouds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the prompt: Heirloom</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anne closes her fingers around the amethyst brooch, and sucks in a shuddery breath. She thinks fondly of the woman she’d come to think of as a mother, if only in her daydreams, and misses her fiercely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s in moments like these, with Gilbert off to deliver a baby, and the snow falling silently outside, blanketing the world in glittering stars of solid white, that she misses Marilla the most. Oh, she knows what Marilla would say if she could hear Anne’s thoughts, and that makes her laugh out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anne girl, ‘You set your heart too much on frivolous things and then crash down into despair when you don't get them.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But thoughts of Marilla are not frivolous things. Not by a longshot. There are tears in her eyes, but a smile on her face when she remembers that awful ordeal with the very amethyst brooch she now holds dearly as an heirloom that she hopes to pass on to one of her children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time that Anne had ever truly felt as though she was in the depths of despair, her heart had felt as though it had been sliced right through when Marilla hadn’t believed her that day. It was also the first time her lies had not served her well, no matter that the truth hadn’t provided a way out for her either. It was also the first time she’d really felt loved. The punishment hadn’t been overly harsh, no matter that it wasn’t exactly a just punishment. Marilla had shown that she had a heart, too, and that she wasn’t all prickly briar and sour lemons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you,” Anne says, the brooch clutched tight in her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind howls, and the falling snow swirls and dances in front of Anne’s window. It’s a crystal glittering in the light of the moon. It’s Marilla kissing her on the forehead and telling her to stop her foolish nonsense of reliving the past and start living in the present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wrong, you know,” Anne says to the blowing snow. “All those years ago. Amethysts aren’t the souls of the good violets. They’re the souls of the good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kisses the brooch, and laughs when she can hear Marilla’s voice as though the woman is in the next room, telling her to stop her daydreaming and heat the soup for Gilbert. Sure as Anne is that nobody ever truly dies, as soon as she heats the soup, Gilbert’s at the front door, stomping the snow off his feet, and sweeping her up in a crushing embrace that leaves her blushing and breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Gilbert says, and then he veers off to warm his hands around the bowl of soup she’d ladled for him. He gives her a look that curls her toes, and Anne sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pins the brooch to her dress, it glimmers in the light of the fire in the stove, seeming to wink at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Live in the present, Anne-girl.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no use arguing with Marilla, even the one that Anne holds in her imagination, so she does just that, lives in the present, knowing that if Marilla and Matthew hadn’t taken her in all those years ago, the very present she’s living now would not have been possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits down at the table, and listens to Gilbert tell a humorous, if harrowing story about the delivery of Mrs. Scott’s twins. She laughs, and cries, and clutches at the brooch, wanting to share it all with the woman who’d been the very first to give her heart to Anne, and the very first person to whom Anne had given her own (after Matthew, of course).</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Anne thinks, is what Marilla really gifted her with all those years ago. She’d left her the amethyst brooch that Anne is not afraid to admit she’d coveted, and taught her how to keep a home, and how to soar and dream with her feet firmly on the ground, even with her head in the clouds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marilla had given her so much more than that silly, lovely brooch. She’d given her a home, stability, and her very heart. A heart that Anne knows with a sharp intake of breath, she wants to pass on to her children more than the brooch and the knowledge of how to walk with your head in the clouds while your feet are steadfast on the ground.</span>
</p>
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